


There and Back Again (and Back Again, Again)

by ifdragonscouldtalk



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Baby Spock (Star Trek), Bones is So Done, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy Friendship, James T. Kirk & Nyota Uhura Friendship, Language Barrier, Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock Friendship, Leonard "Bones" McCoy is a Good Dad, Mild Language, Tags and Warnings may be updated, Vulnerable Spock, Young Spock (Star Trek), slight whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21673786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifdragonscouldtalk/pseuds/ifdragonscouldtalk
Summary: “I’m thinkin’,” he said, slowly, after a moment when none of these strangers spoke and neither did Jim, and Spock was looking at him like he was the only raft and they were lost at sea, and he felt the same way, “that these braids on my arm are tellin’ me I’m the CMO here, even though last I remember you and I are still two semesters from graduation. And, I’m also thinkin’ some shit just went down on this ship. So, Jimmy, I’m not one to tell a captain how to do his job, but I’m thinkin’ that some big meeting with all us senior officers would be mighty fine. And I’m also thinkin’ that for some reason, Spock should be there too.” He looked up, catching Jim’s deceptively bright eyes in his pale face. “Do you reckon?”..When the Enterprise is attacked by an unknown entity that has infiltrated their systems, Spock and Leonard are left changed, lost on the ship and in the universe and unable to find anyone to cling to but each other. Will Jim be able to set things back to rights before they become lost even to him?
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock
Comments: 62
Kudos: 138





	1. Captain!

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave suggestions of what you want to see in this story and find me on tumblr ifdragonscouldtalk.tumblr.com for more ways to support me! I have several chapters of this already written so I will try to update regularly. Your feedback helps me write faster, and the more chapters I write the faster I can put them out!  
> Thank you to @pepin-the-short and @lovelyirony who are always wonderfully supportive and excited about what I write and make sure I don't do anything too stupid.

Jim suppressed his yawn, barely, staring out into the slow-moving stars outside the viewscreen. The Bridge crew as a whole was lethargic, save Spock, who always seemed to have boundless energy no matter what they were doing. Uhura was focused, but even she was completing her duties with glazed eyes, the dullness of the past few days making everyone antsy. 

They were cruising along at impulse speed, surveying and mapping the quadrant under Starfleet orders. Being this deep in space there was quite a lot of unexplored area, and Jim had been nonplussed to discover that more than a few of their missions were simply mapping missions. The only one who ever truly enjoyed these kinds of missions was Spock, who did the mapping himself, currently glued to his scanner just as he had been for the past three days, surveying the stars while Jim was stuck writing reports and signing documents. What he wouldn’t give for some excitement...

“Captain,” Spock said suddenly, a note of urgency in his voice that had everyone sitting up straighter, eyes snapping to him as his fingers abruptly flew across his panel, “I’m reading-”

Jim could only watch, eyes wide, as Spock’s science station sparked and abruptly exploded, everyone ducking to cover their heads against the shrapnel. _How?_ he thought, mind racing with the fail safes upon fail safes installed into the Bridge consoles specifically to prevent such catastrophic overloads as he looked back to see Spock now standing, trembling minutely as he stared at his burned and cut up hands. The pain must’ve been significant for Jim to be able to read it so easily in the Vulcan’s eyes when he turned, breaths measured and hands carefully held in front of him to minimize further pain or damage. “Captain,” Spock tried again, voice rougher now and even more urgent. “I detected significant interference in-”

“Captain!” Uhura gasped, and Jim jerked to see her pointing at the viewfinder. He blinked in surprise. 

“How is that...” He trailed off, unable to even formulate the question he wanted to ask as he took in the words suddenly swamping the slow-moving stars. 

THIS IS A WARNING, CAPTAIN. STAY OUT OF OUR BUSINESS. 

“Captain!” Spock sounded distressed, now, and that shocked Jim more than anything else which had occurred, making him look back to his First Officer and friend. His mouth hung open as he took in the transporter de-atoms swirling around Spock and the frantic look in his eyes, wild with pain and concern. “Someone is in our systems!” A simplified version of what he truly wanted to say in the small amount of time he had. 

“Chekov, shields up!” he barked, leaping from his chair and staring at his First Officer, wondering _what the fuck_ was happening. “Red alert! We’re under attack!” 

The shields would be too late. Spock was fading from their sight as he watched, pale, mutilated hands shaking. The lights from the transport faded and then abruptly returned, and Jim watched in stupified confusion as a much smaller figure took Spock’s place, the transport fading once more just before Chekov confirmed the shields being at 100%. He swallowed in the blinking emergency lights, staring at the young boy with the shaking hands and teary eyes, mesmerized by the green blood dripping off small fingers. 

“Spock?” he whispered, and the small Vulcan whimpered, eyes jerking up from his injured hands at the sound of his name, tears starting to cut tracks down his cheeks. He was swamped in regulation science blues, and Jim would’ve guessed him being only about four years old. “Spock? What happened?” His First Officer stared at him, chest shaking with clearly suppressed sobs, and Jim prayed his Spock was still in there, the adult, who would know what was going on and how to help. 

“ _H-hassu_ _?_ ” Spock asked, and it sounded too much like a sob. There went Jim’s hopes. 

“Oh,” Uhura breathed, and he was sure what she really wanted to say was something inappropriate for a Starfleet officer to utter or a child to hear. “Spock, _hassu dungi-sarlah_.” [The doctor will come.] It snapped Jim back into action, slamming his hand down on the command chair’s communicator harder than strictly necessary, his voice sharper than intended when he spoke, making him curse internally when Spock flinched back from him. 

“Bones! We need you on the Bridge, now!” 

“ _Jim?_ ” Jim tilted his head, a stone of dread settling in his stomach. Bones’ accent hadn’t been that strong since... “ _When the hell did we get into space?!_ ” 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he muttered, uncaring of the listening ears of his crew. “Listen, Bones, I’ll explain everything, but get one of the nurses and come up to the Bridge. I’ve got an injured kid up here and I _really_ need you.” 

“ _Why do you have a kid on the Bridge!? Of all the irresponsible... I’ll be right there._ ” Jim took a steadying breath, steeling himself for the fallout of this disaster and watching Spock slowly curl into himself, pressing his ears to his raised shoulders. The sounds and lights of the red alert must have been bothering his more sensitive Vulcan ears and eyes. In lieu of any sudden explosions or a ship in present space, there was little a red alert could do for them right now. 

“Kill the red alert, Sulu, change it to yellow,” he sighed, rubbing his face as he thought about the implications of what Spock said before he had been inexplicably changed. “Uhura, get Scotty on the comm, tell him Spock found in infiltrator in our systems that we need to root out yesterday, he can pull all the resources he wants. Chekov, keep those shields at 100%, I’m not risking anyone being beamed out unexpectedly.” He got a chorus of ‘aye, sir’s in return and watched Spock’s shoulders slowly drop from his ears, overwhelmed and pained tears still streaking down his face in a terribly heart wrenching display. 

“ _Sa-mekh nash-veh wilat? Nash-veh wilat?_ ” Spock’s voice trembled despite his valiant efforts to blank his face and regain control of himself. Jim winced to himself, resigned to the fact that at four years old, Spock apparently didn’t know Standard, praying that the boy would be able to understand his admittedly terrible accent. 

“ _Your father is not here. You are on the starship_ Enterprise _. I am Captain Kirk,_ ” he replied in Vulcan, and the boy sniffled at his answer, shock from the pain of his injuries starting to glaze his eyes. 

“ _Why am I here?_ ” Spock sobbed through his teeth, clearly trying to hold back his terror and his reaction to the pain through sheer force of will, and Jim hated Sarek a bit for making a four year old feel he had to control a natural response meant to generate assistance. “ _Why am I injured?_ ” 

“ _You have many questions. I can explain. A doctor is coming to help._ ” He cursed his lack of vocabulary. He could understand Vulcan much better than he could speak it, and shot a slightly desperate look at Uhura.

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear, Jim thought as Bones stormed off the turbolift. He watched his friend, visibly younger but thankfully still an adult, pause and pale at the sight of the slow-turning stars outside the viewscreen before he focused in on Spock and immediately began to curse a blue streak. 

“Dammit, Jim, you didn’t say it was a Vulcan kid! I didn’t bring any null-gloves with me!” Bones immediately knelt in front of the trembling child, taking in his dress and his hands and the station sparking behind him and shooting a questioning look full of anger at Jim, who responded with a pleading look that hopefully conveyed his plan to explain everything later. “ _Tonk’peh_ ,” he said in a much softer voice as Nurse Chapel spread supplies around them, and Jim was gratified to hear his accent was even more atrocious. “I’m gonna help you feel better, kid. What’s your name?” 

Spock sniffled, staring up at Bones, more tears trailing slow down his cheek, and there was horror and fear filling the Bridge, and the choking sense that they were intruding upon something that they should never have seen. “Doctor?” Spock asked, accent thick but understandable, and Jim felt his eyebrows creep up at the Standard. Bones nodded back. 

“That’s right, kid, I’m Doctor McCoy and I’m gonna fix you up, don’t you worry. What’s your name?” he repeated, and Jim was confused as to why he was talking so slowly until he noticed Spock watching his lips, brow furrowed in concentration. 

“Spock,” he let out on a sob, hands still shaking, his entire body leaning towards McCoy. “Spock I am... Pain I am... having...” He let out a little noise of frustration, apparently understanding that his grammar was not correct but unable to fix it -- he must’ve only recently begun to learn Standard, and shot off something so rapid-fire in Vulcan that only Uhura was able to understand it. 

“That’s right, kid, you’re doing great,” McCoy reassured with a smile, glancing at Chapel significantly. “I know you’re in pain, but I ain’t gonna touch you until my nurse here gets me the right gloves. I don’t wanna hurt you more, not with your hands like that. Understand?” Spock glanced confused at Jim and Uhura momentarily before nodding. 

“Doctor McCoy helps,” he said, but it sounded like a question as Chapel rushed back to the turbolift. “Doctor McCoy being Human, need gloves to touch Vulcan. Hands hurt.” He seemed to be calmer, at least, although the pain on his face and the trembles wracking his body didn’t fade. McCoy smiled again. 

“That’s right, kiddo, I don’t wanna hurt you more with my mind. How old are you, sweet pea?” Spock frowned, wrinkling his eyebrows in confusion and looking at Uhura, who repeated the question in Vulcan for him. It took him a moment to formulate the answer into Standard. 

“Three years and seven months I am having.” 

“Wow, gettin’ real big there, huh kid?” He unfolded a blanket and draped it ever so carefully around Spock’s shoulders, making sure not to brush against his hands or arms or dislodge the over-large uniform shirt in case the sleeves slipped down. The damage to Spock’s hands, now that Jim was fully processing, looked bad, and he felt a stab of icy fear. Spock didn’t seem to understand Bones’ question. 

“Doctor McCoy?” His voice was timid, tears still slipping unbidden down his cheeks, and although the rest of his face was stoic his eyes told all of his pain and fear. “Where being... Where... _Nash-veh wilat? Sa-mekh eh Mommy wilat?_ ” His face threatened to crumple against another surge of tears, and Bones shot a glance over his shoulder that Jim felt burning into him, as if he were asking _Yeah, Jim, where are we? Where is this kid’s mom and dad?_

 _I’ll explain everything_ _,_ he tried to say back with his eyes, and Bones turned away with a soft smile to Spock, gently reaching forward and brushing away some of the tears dripping off the boy’s chin. “I don’t know, sweet pea,” he said honestly, voice smooth and soft. “But I said I was gonna help you, didn’t I? I’ll get you back to your Momma and Sa-mekh, baby boy, don’t you worry about it.” 

“I am not being _kan-bu_.” 

“Oh, baby, you’re always gonna be your Momma and Sa-mekh’s _kan-bu_.” Jim wasn’t sure where Bones had even picked up this much Vulcan, or whether he was just good at decyphering what children were saying through context clues. 

“Bones, shouldn’t you take him to Sickbay?” Jim asked softly. They had just been attacked, and they were in the middle of dead space, and they were down a First Officer if not a CMO. He needed to get the Bridge crew sorted and figure out the next plan of action. He wasn’t expecting the venomous look Bones shot him over his shoulder. 

“Can you spare that smart little lady at the comm station?” Uhura raised an eyebrow and Jim shifted on his feet uncomfortably, glancing around the Bridge crew as if they would be some help to him. He felt lost as a captain, uncertain in the face of these challenges. Normally, Spock could talk him away from that uncertainty, but that wouldn’t be happening today.

“No,” he answered honestly.

“Can you spare yourself, _Captain_ James Kirk?” It wasn’t meant to be offensive, just worried and inquiring, and Bones’ hand was still resting on Spock’s shoulder, as if to anchor the boy in place. Jim fidgeted again.

“No?” 

“You got anyone else on this ship that can speak Vulcan? Got another Vulcan onboard?” 

“No...”

“Then I’m treatin’ him right here, Jimmy, and you’re gonna have to work around us. I need someone to tell me if he starts screamin’ for me to stop.” Chapel came back off the turbolift, and Bones raised a pleased eyebrow at the species-specific disinfectant and dermal regenerator specific to burns she carried along with the gloves, nodding his appreciation. 

“Screaming?” Bones turned away grimly, donning the gloves and nodding an understanding with Chapel as she shifted around behind Spock. 

“Shit, Jim, the boy’ll be screaming loud enough for his Mommy to hear in a second, and I gotta know if he’s saying something important.”


	2. Like Ships Passing In The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He saw Jim stop the instinctive twitch of his hands towards his ears when, at the first touch of Leonard’s hands to Spock’s, the Vulcan child threw his head back and screamed, thrashing against Christine’s hold for all the world like he was enduring the worst torture. “Oh God!” he heard someone exclaim, and saw the lady at the communication station start to rise like she was going to pull him away from Spock. Christine didn’t so much as flinch when Spock turned his head to wail straight into her ear, lips set in a grim line, watching as he carefully pried the little pieces of shrapnel stuck in both palms with forceps and then sat back, hands held up by his shoulders. 

Leonard offered the boy, who had not followed the rapid conversation with Jim in Standard, a reassuring smile, and Spock sniffled in return. “Alright, sweet pea, I’m gonna start now. Christine behind you is gonna hold your arms steady for me while I work, okay baby?” It took a moment of blank staring for Spock to work out what he had said, and then he nodded. 

“O-kay,” he repeated, allowing Christine to settle up against his back and take each of his small arms in her hands, holding the sleeves of his tunic high away from the wounds. 

“I don’t wanna numb your little hands, Spock, so it might hurt a little.”

“Numb?”

“Freeze. Ice.” Numbing a Vulcan’s hands would be like taking away a Human’s sense of taste or smell -- they didn’t realize how important it was to them until they no longer had it, and there had been reports of Vulcans going into shock from a sudden loss of feeling in (or complete loss of) their hands. For a child, especially one as young as Spock, who was only just coming into his touch telepathy and who now had his hands injured, numbing them would be the worst kind of torture. 

Only second, probably, was the torture of treating his hands without numbing them. 

But with such delicate structures in the hand, he needed to make sure this was done right the first time. He needed to make sure Spock was awake to move those little fingers when he needed him to, to tell him if the skin felt wrong or the sensation in his fingertips was lost, things a tricorder reading couldn’t tell him. He respected his nurse, Christine Chapel, her professionalism and understanding of him, and thought he should mention to Jim later how good she is at her job. 

Later, once he found out what the _fuck_ was happening. _Don’t think about the space right outside that big window, do not think about it. Spock needs you._

“Oh. Hurt a little?”

“Only a little, baby boy.”

“O-kay.” 

He saw Jim stop the instinctive twitch of his hands towards his ears when, at the first touch of Leonard’s hands to Spock’s, the Vulcan child threw his head back and _screamed_ , thrashing against Christine’s hold for all the world like he was enduring the worst torture. “Oh God!” he heard someone exclaim, and saw the lady at the communication station start to rise like she was going to pull him away from Spock. Christine didn’t so much as flinch when Spock turned his head to wail straight into her ear, lips set in a grim line, watching as he carefully pried the little pieces of shrapnel stuck in both palms with forceps and then sat back, hands held up by his shoulders. 

“Alright, baby, alright, it’s okay sweetheart. The worst is over, baby boy, take a second. You’ve got this, brave little _kan-bu_. Take a breath.” Spock was sobbing against Christine’s chest, great heaving things he obviously couldn’t control, and he stared at Leonard like he had committed the worst betrayal imaginable. 

“Doctor McCoy says hurt a little!” 

“That was the worst of it, sweet pea, I promise,” he said as he stripped off his gloves, wiping Spock’s cheeks with his palms and running a comforting hand through his hair. “That’s the worst, baby. You were so brave for me, so brave. Can you continue to be brave, _kan-bu_?” Spock was sniffling terribly, eyes green rimmed and huge with fear and pain and exhaustion, but he leaned into Leonard’s touch and nodded anyway.

“Brave I am having. Mommy saying _kyi’i eh vakh_ I am having, saying it is because of her.” Leonard couldn’t help but smile at that, smoothing a fresh wave of tears away before disinfecting his hands again and donning a new pair of gloves. 

“I’ll just bet it is. You’re a Momma’s boy, huh Spock?” Spock didn’t seem to understand, but he had relaxed against Christine’s chest again, huge eyes looking at him as if he had all the answers to all the problems in the universe. Joanna used to look at him like that, and something stuck in his throat as he smiled. “I know you don’t want to, but can you curl your fingers for me, Spock?” He demonstrated as he spoke, curling his fingers up, and Spock flinched but copied him. He could breathe a sigh of relief that at least it seemed no nerves had been damaged. 

None of the strangers on the Bridge were speaking, and neither was Jim. No one had punched him yet either, although he was just as likely to punch them back, hovering between the edges of panic and anger. Panic that he was somehow on a starship in the middle of space with his idiot of a roommate as the captain, and anger that they had allowed a Vulcan _toddler_ onto the Bridge where he had apparently gotten injured by an exploding science station. 

“Alright, sweet pea,” he continued softly, keeping his voice honey-sweet and Georgia rich like Joanna always liked when she got a bad fever. “Let’s get you all healed up, now, and then we’ll find that Momma of yours.” Thorough but painless disinfection and dermal regeneration later and Spock’s tears had stopped, staring down at his hands and his blood and soot stained sleeves as the last of his sniffles faded. 

Leonard wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t for the boy to practically leap into his arms, burying his face in his chest and shaking with now-suppressed sobs. This wasn’t good for a Vulcan, even a baby one. The kid needed someone to help him through some guided meditation, especially in the absence of his parents, and Leonard wasn’t going to be able to provide him that. 

“We got some psychologist on-board?” he asked gruffly as he stood with Spock cradled easily in his arms, relishing in the weight of a child against his chest and nodding gratefully at Christine as she moved to clean their tools away, getting a smile in return. 

“Yeah, you,” Jim replied weakly, and at some point he had settled into the command chair, face pale. Leonard didn’t want to let his panic and anger break free, especially not with the vulnerable Spock in his arms, but that statement and the paleness of Jim’s face almost broke him. 

“Jim, I’m a surgeon not a goddamn shrink. Are you telling me I’m the only one with a psych class under his belt onboard?” 

“We do, Leonard, but we don’t have anyone for Spock.” It was the first straight answer he had gotten all day, and he looked at Christine as she stood. “Vulcan psychology is so special... You had taken the time to study it, should the need ever arise.” There was a tension on the Bridge that seemed to say _again,_ as if the need had arisen once and no one had been there to accept the challenge. Spock was trying to follow the thread of conversation now, one hand clenched tightly in Leonard’s shirt, and when he looked down to meet those unusually emotional eyes he felt his own fear and confusion mirrored there. 

“I’m thinkin’,” he said, slowly, after a moment when none of these strangers spoke and neither did Jim, and Spock was looking at him like he was the only raft and they were lost at sea, and he felt the same way, “that these braids on my arm are tellin’ me I’m the CMO here, even though last I remember you and I are still two semesters from graduation. And, I’m also thinkin’ some shit just went down on this ship. So, Jimmy, I’m not one to tell a captain how to do his job, but I’m thinkin’ that some big meeting with all us senior officers would be mighty fine. And I’m also thinkin’ that for some reason, Spock should be there too.” He looked up, catching Jim’s deceptively bright eyes in his pale face. “Do you reckon?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, Bones, you’re right,” Jim finally said, and for the first time ever Leonard watched him slip into a captain persona, don the mask of someone who knew what they were doing and would get them out of this. _Maybe he would_. But the last time Leonard had seen him, he’d been some snot-nosed cadet just as down on his luck as he was and drinking almost twice as much, as if he just hadn’t found the secret amount of alcohol and fist fights that would make his genius brain black out for more than a few hours at a time yet. It was a strange transition, to see the young man that stood before him now and feel left behind and lost in the vastness of the space they were drifting through. He tightened his hold on Spock and pointedly didn’t look towards the viewscreen, and Spock held him all the tighter back. Both displaced, not where they were supposed to be. He had an inkling of what had happened, and he was afraid to have it confirmed. “Uhura, call the meeting. Conference Room 3.” 

“Aye, sir,” said the gorgeous Lieutenant at the communication station, and if Leonard hadn’t suspected before he knew now that she was Nyota Uhura, the beauty of a thousand languages who wouldn’t give Jim the time of day during their Academy years. 

Just where the fuck had he and Spock ended up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please feel free to leave speculation and suggestions in the comments, and check out my tumblr (ifdragonscouldtalk.tumblr.com) for more information on how to support me!


	3. And the Emptiness of the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He and Spock shrunk into each other as more staring strangers were admitted soundlessly into the room, both silent. None of these officers spoke, eyes seeking out their bodies as if they were searching for something that he and Spock did not have on offer, intense and dark and questioning for answers he could not give them. Nyota Uhura smiled at him as she entered, respectfully averting her eyes towards her PADD and elbowing the man next to her hard as he continued to stare, prompting him to do the same. The rest were undaunted in the face of their discomfort, and yet they sat away from them, only Christine grinning as she entered and sitting across from the two with a reassuring smile. Leonard only tensed further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! I know for a lot of people it's no longer Christmas, but for me there's still an hour and a half left, so I made the goal I set for myself! 
> 
> This chapter was particularly difficult to write for me, as there were so many directions I could've taken it that I had a problem settling on which one I wanted. I hope you like what I chose in the end.

“Alright, Spock. Close your eyes for me, and try to match my breathing.” 

Christine had led him to Conference Room 3 and left them with a smile to return their equipment, although Leonard was sure she would return at the unspecified ‘soon’ of the meeting for all department heads and main Bridge crew, since she told him she was his Head Nurse. Leonard had chosen the seat furthest from the door, plopped Spock down on the table in front of him, and watched him readily fold into an easy lotus position, hands tented in front of his face. They both knew the significance -- Vulcan meditation was notoriously difficult to achieve for Humans and quite intimate for Vulcans, especially guided meditations with children or those who required assistance after a trauma. Spock was trusting him to guide his meditation and set his fraught mind to rights once more, trusting him to find the answers to this strange universe the two of them had woken up in where he didn’t have his Momma or his Sa-mekh and Leonard didn’t have a damn clue who his friends were or who he was supposed to be. 

He swallowed hard. Providing for Joanna had never seemed this difficult -- her problems had been normal problems at least, and he had still fucked that up. 

Spock had tilted his head, listening carefully to the sounds of the engine humming in the deck and walls around them, matching his breathing to the cautious, slow rate Leonard had set for himself, both relaxing their postures. Spock’s eyes were closed, but Leonard was watching the boy, monitoring him as best he could without disturbing the peace that was so necessary for an untrained mind to achieve this meditation. He didn’t have any incense, fire, or idols, but he had dimmed the lights and replicated an orange to peel, and that provided the atmosphere and a nice smell for the boy to focus on. The breathing gave him a sound to focus on, and the table was as good a place as any to sit when neither of them had access to a proper mat. He hoped even a short session before they were inevitably interrupted by this meeting that he had demanded of the Captain (and good God, he wasn’t even going to get into that right now, his Mama and every Admiral in the ‘fleet woulda smacked him) would be enough to set Spock’s mind to some sort of rights. 

Young Vulcans didn’t have the same structured minds and repressed emotions as older Vulcans, but Spock was getting to that age where he must’ve started to learn about these things, emotions becoming more volatile and necessary to understand and control to prevent detriments. Leonard might not agree with it, seeing such a young boy, not even four yet, sitting so still and quiet and focused, but he had read about how important it was and it hadn’t failed the Vulcans yet, so who was he to say anything? 

Perhaps he had gone a bit above and beyond the duties of his classes in studying Vulcans. But damn, a cursory understanding of their anatomy, psychology, and the dismissal that “they’ll probably be fine on their own or know how to instruct you to treat them” was just not good enough to Leonard considering how closely Humans worked with Vulcans. They were their closest allies, for fuck’s sake, the least he could do was learn a bit more about them than where their heart was! 

Spock’s eyes opened sooner than Leonard wanted them to, uncharacteristically troubled but no longer damp with pain or fear. He folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them, at his blood-stained sleeves, and Leonard wished they had at least given him some way to get the kid in actual clothes instead of whatever godforsaken thing he was currently wearing. 

“I cannot focus.” 

He blinked. It was the first sentence Spock had gotten grammatically correct, so there must have been some element of focus and calm within him, but if he couldn’t enter meditation, if Leonard couldn’t _help him_ enter meditation, there were going to be more problems than either one of them wanted to handle. Spock looked up again, meeting his eyes, a serious expression on his young face, and mimed writing something. 

Most children learning a second language learned how to read and write in that language first. Vulcan formal training didn’t start until they were officially four years of age, so knowing as much Standard as he did was honestly a miracle for the crew, considering how few of them could speak Vulcan and how he hadn’t yet entered formal education. Spock could probably write Standard much easier than he could speak it, since it was a different pathway in the brain. He could clearly understand it far more than he could respond. Leonard looked around and shrugged, grabbing for the PADD left on the table in the room and handing it to Spock. They only needed it for a typing application, it wasn’t like either of them would be accessing classified data.

[I am uncomfortable.] 

“I know, sweet pea, I’m sorry,” Leonard sighed, not all that comfortable himself. “Soon as I can I’ll get you some real clothes, but I bet you’re cold?” Spock nodded, and that was enough confirmation. “C’mere, baby, I’ll keep you warm best I can.” He hesitated before crawling off the table and into Leonard’s lap, allowing himself to be wrapped closely to the Human chest to try and share warmth. 

[I miss Mommy.] He typed slowly, carefully thinking out each word and letter and the positions they went in the sentence, and it made it all the more heartbreaking when Leonard could finally read it and look down at those expressive brown eyes that needed him to fix something he couldn’t. 

“I know that too, baby boy,” he said, gentler, pressing a kiss into Spock’s hair. Spock didn’t seem to mind this, looking down at the PADD in his lap. 

[Mommy is Human.] 

“She is, huh?” It explained why Spock might have more trouble than other Vulcan children meditating, especially without someone to guide him. Without his mother or father to guide him. It also explained why he called his father the traditional ‘sa-mekh’ but had been referring to his mother as ‘mommy’ instead of ‘ko-mekh’. He didn't have an opportunity to say anything more as the door slid open and the lights returned to full brightness to admit a stranger who immediately began to openly gape at them. The man said nothing, but his eyes were wide as he took the seat furthest from them, staring shamelessly.

He and Spock shrunk into each other as more staring strangers were admitted soundlessly into the room, both silent. None of these officers spoke, eyes seeking out their bodies as if they were searching for something that he and Spock did not have on offer, intense and dark and questioning for answers he could not give them. Nyota Uhura smiled at him as she entered, respectfully averting her eyes towards her PADD and elbowing the man next to her hard as he continued to stare, prompting him to do the same. The rest were undaunted in the face of their discomfort, and yet they sat away from them, only Christine grinning as she entered and sitting across from the two with a reassuring smile. Leonard only tensed further. 

Whispers that Leonard did not bother listening in on surrounded them as Spock continued to fiddle with the PADD in his lap. These whispers abruptly stopped as Jim entered the room, all smiles and swagger like he was entering a party with a beer in hand rather than a meeting of his senior officers with an emergency sitting on his chest. “Report,” he said seriously as he took his place at the head of the table, not looking at Leonard and refusing to meet his eye. 

“No other officers have been displaced,” Uhura started. 

“Our systems are fried, sir, we’re sittin’ ducks,” a man with a heavy Scottish accent across from her continued with a scowl. “Whoever was in our programs, they did a damn fine job fuckin’ with our beaut. Until I can sort through the code and fix the compromised failsafes, there’s naught to do but wait. We should request a tow.”

“Noted,” Jim said. “Our transporter systems and comms still work?”

“No sir, comms are down completely. We can’t transmit or receive,” Uhura answered bitterly, frowning at her hands. 

“Tha’s the strange part, Cap’n, before our transport shut down there was a transport completed, _internally_.” 

“Internally?” Jim raised an eyebrow, hands rubbing together in what Leonard knew was a nervous gesture, but what he was sure the rest of them thought was contemplation. “Interesting. Anything else to report?” 

“Without comm systems we can’t call for help,” the man next to Uhura said seriously. “Long range scanners are down, half the equipment in the labs was damaged when the science failsafes failed, and even if the engines were working navigation is offline.”

“I could nawigate by hand, but it will take some time,” the kid sitting across from him interrupted, his Russian accent heavy. “Many calculations must be considered.” 

“How long will it take to get the engines back online?”

“At least three days,” the Scotsman answered Jim, scowling as he did so.

“But our life support is still online?” 

“Only thing that _wasn’t_ damaged, sir.”

“Make that two days, Scotty.”

“Aye, sir,” the Scotsman, Scotty apparently, sighed. 

“Any injuries to report?”

“None, sir, except for Mr Spock,” Christine reported, sending Leonard a smile. He felt some tension leave his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how worried he had been about the state of this crew he knew nothing about until he acknowledged they were safe and his medical assistance was unneeded. “Both he and Dr McCoy seem to be in perfect health now.” 

Leonard couldn’t help the snort of disbelief that escaped him at that, and wished he could shove it back in when it drew those searching eyes back. Jim’s face was as serious as he had ever seen it. “Report, Bones?”

“It’s not good, Jim,” he said after a moment, suppressing a sigh. Spock was staring up at him, and he knew the kid could read all his emotions through his skin, trying to quiet them. “None of us are equipped to deal with a Vulcan kid, much less a half-Human one. He needs someone who can help him meditate, especially this far from any communal or parental bonds, and he needs someone to help stabilize those bonds and his shields. None of us can do that for him. That’s not even considering the fact that the kid can barely communicate with us, which is a whole other problem! If I had to guess, I would’ve thought he’d be fluent in Standard along with Vulcan, but he’s struggling, and Uhura can’t be with him all the time.”

“He doesn’t seem to have a problem communicating with you.” And that was definitely a smirk on his idiot best friend’s face, damn him. 

“That’s because, despite it all, he’s still three, Jim. In case you forgot, I’ve dealt with three year olds. Which is another thing. Maybe you think I’m crazy for not liking these death traps, but even you can agree it ain’t no place for a three year old.” Jim grimaced, and Leonard knew he had one. “Think I’d like that explanation now, Jimmy.” 

Jim’s face was more serious than he’d ever seen it, arms crossed and lips pressed in a grim line as he studied them. Leonard felt the illogical urge to puff up under the observation, to show his strength, but he scowled instead, pressing Spock’s back to his chest as a strange shiver ran down the boy’s spine. “Want the easy truth or the hard truth?” 

“I’m thinkin’ you best just spit it out, Jim, so we can start fixin’ this deathtrap faster. The kid wants to comm his momma.” 

He wasn’t expecting the sudden tenseness of everyone’s shoulders, the blood leaking from their faces, the averted eyes. He felt Spock tense in his arms, tried to hold himself steady and not become overwhelmed by the suddenly crashing sense of dread and panic, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself and gripping Spock’s little hand tightly, hoping he could sense that surety he had in Jim to fix this. How could he even be sure Jim could fix this, when he could barely even trust the kid to wake up and feed himself half the time? No, he couldn’t think like that, Spock needed him to believe, needed him to have faith in something so he could have faith in him, and that was hard because he hadn’t believed in anything for so, so long, much less himself, but he would have to learn to do it anyway. 

There was something they shouldn’t talk about, not with the precious little boy sitting in his lap, not with his pointed ears tuned to what they were saying, even if he couldn’t understand all of it. He would be able to understand enough. But Spock knew that too, now, knew there was something he wasn’t supposed to know, and that was almost as horrific as knowing sometimes. “Best just spit it out, Jim,” Leonard repeated, trying to project as much calm and confidence as he could. His voice came out dreadfully grim. 

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea...”

“It’s too late now. Get out with it, all of it, and we’ll do what we always do, and deal with the repercussions after.” And wasn’t that the story of his and Jim’s lives? 

“You said you’re two semesters from graduation?” Jim didn’t really need the confirmation, glancing down at his fidgeting hands before meeting Leonard’s gaze steadily, and Leonard was helpless to do anything but meet it right back and cling to Spock as if that might save them both. “In about four months, we’ll meet Spock when I take the Kobayashi Maru for the third time, when he’s a Commander and teacher at the Academy. A week later, there’s an attack.” Leonard appreciated that he was talking in the future tense, as if it was still going to happen, as if he was discussing the possibilities for future football scores instead of making a horrendous breach of every time-travel doctrine ever created. “On Vulcan.” Spock was so tense it felt painful, his grip on Leonard’s hand shuddering and desperate. “Spock was there.”

“We were there,” Leonard prompted when Jim didn’t continue, glancing around the table, taking in the young faces. “Even though we weren’t supposed to be.” Jim nodded. Another constant in their lives. 

“We saved Earth. Spock’s father survived, he’s on New Vulcan.”

Even at three years old and some change, with only marginal understanding of Standard, Spock could read between the lines as well as he could. “Mommy?” he said, and his voice was surprisingly steady, ringing in the sudden silence of the room. Jim hesitated, didn’t look down to meet the child’s eyes, instead fiercely looking into Leonard’s. 

“You tried to save her, Spock.” 

“Mommy is dead. Vulcan is dead.” Spock’s voice was cracking, now. “I am... older. Three I am not supposed to be. Mommy is dead.” They were not questions, but Jim nodded in confirmation anyway. 

Something was humming under Leonard’s skin, hot and dangerous and unlike the panic that he knew was his own. “How many died?” he asked through numb lips, as if he was asking for a situation report on a plague, instead of the attack and destruction of an entire planet and what must’ve been most of the Fleet, if Jim had been made captain so young. Jim hesitated to answer, looking away now towards Uhura.

“Fewer than 6,000 Vulcans from the planet’s surface survived. Spock went down and saved most of the elders who had been in the Katric Arc, saving their culture. Every ship in the Fleet that arrived to Vulcan before us was destroyed -- no survivors. Thousands of officers were lost. They fast-tracked a few years of graduation, to repopulate the Fleet.” 

“Mommy is _dead_ ,” Spock snarled, his hands slamming down on the table with a sharp bang, and Leonard wrapped his arms tighter around him to hold him still. “Vulcan is _dead_. There is _nothing._ ”

“Hey, no, baby, don’t say that.” He grabbed one of Spock’s hands, stunned by the shock of emotion that went through him -- anger and desperation and panic, wrapped in a blanket of sadness. He grit his teeth against the onslaught, gathering Spock back to him once more and standing, barely keeping himself from cursing. He didn’t want to do this here, but it was better than doing it in the hallway, where anyone and their mother could see. “Captain, a moment,” he said as he carried the boy to the corner and set him down, shielding him from prying eyes with his own body. “Spock, don’t say that. I know it’s hard-”

“Not knowing!” Spock snarled, expressive eyes filled with rage. _Anger is a secondary emotion,_ Leonard thought, taking in the trembles wracking through the child’s frame, cold and fear and desperation. “I am _empty!_ ” 

It was emotional and physical, Leonard was sure. The lack of parental and communal bonds now strikingly absent in the acknowledgement of their loss, not a weakening through distance but a snapping through time. His mind was empty of a mother’s touch, a community’s care, those things with psi-positive individuals depended on. He didn’t know what to say, but Spock continued for him. 

“Fill me, Dr McCoy! Heal me!” 

Little hands reaching for his temples, he realized too late what Spock was trying to do, a child with an untrained mind and trauma to boot, and he managed to stammer out a “Spock, wait!” before sense was lost to him in a torrent of everything which did not belong to him, black in the too-bright lights of this damned ship. 

He didn’t know how he was going to fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please search out my tumblr (ifdragonscouldtalk.tumblr.com) for more ways to support me and to chat with me! Ask to join my Star Trek writer's Discord! 
> 
> Feel free to leave your thoughts and speculations in the comments below, and anything you would like to see happen between Baby Spock and Bones! I've been setting personal comment goals for each chapter and so far they have not been met, but if they're met I'm definitely going to update more often! (Hint: the goal for this chapter is 5 comments) 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Bound in Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “N-nahp, hi-hif-bi tu throks,” Spock sobbed, and they were back within that desert, the sun even hotter than before but the storm around them silenced, and Spock was looking up at him with a terrible expression of devastation, lost within this wide world and the reality of what he had committed. “D-doctor,” he whispered in that Not-Really-Standard, and his chest heaved against Leonard’s hip where they were pressed together, yarn tangled inextricably around their bodies, their fingers tangled together, and Leonard hated the way the bond pulsed quietly around them, swallowing thickly. 
> 
> “Well, kid, we’ve really done it this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! I hope you all slept well or celebrated well, and I hope you're looking forward to this chapter. I had meant to get it up yesterday, but I fell asleep lol. It's here now, though! 
> 
> This chapter feels a bit lackluster to me, but I'm really just pushing through so I can finally get to the fluff (babey spok, babey spock, baby spok!!) so if it feels rushed or confused, let me know and I'll adjust accordingly.

Spock’s mind was heat and swirling wind, carrying the emotions and thoughts of a child who already did not know where he fit in among a society that did not want him. Leonard’s feet were sunk into the sand, and he struggled to yank them out with the hissing of the wind against his face, blinding him, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He wondered how much of what he was seeing and feeling was his own mind trying to make sense of the meld. 

Spock was before him, body vibrating with anger and sorrow, tears pouring down his face from expressive eyes, hair whipping across his forehead. Tangled between their fingers was a bright red snarl of a Cat’s Cradle, yarn rough against their hands, and Leonard tried carefully to pick apart the knots trapping them together even as the strings became more tangled in the torrent and Spock’s twitching hands. Broken and frayed edges of string laid snapped against the sand, trailing from the center of the Cradle and from the hem of Spock’s sleeves. One, no, two thin, frail pieces of thread remained unbroken, trailing across the sands, lost in the swirl of wind and heat. 

“Spock,” he said, desperately, and the wind seemed to die as if it were listening to his voice. “You need to stop, now. You’re tangling it, it’s dangerous.” 

“You cannot leave,” Spock replied seriously, and he wasn’t really speaking Standard, but Leonard understood him anyway. 

“I’m not going to leave. If you don’t stop-” 

“ _Sulu, no!_ ” Shouting, bursting through their bubble of storm, voices overlapping and panicked.

There was pain, so much pain. 

It felt like his head was splitting apart down the middle, across the back, and he reached a trembling hand up to his forehead fully expecting to feel the slick heat of blood against his skin. His vision was black, and he realized the terrible sound echoing through him was coming from within his own chest. It was nauseating to look up at the ceiling and see it shifting and morphing, black spots marring his vision as unconsciousness tried to overtake him, so he closed his eyes, swallowing down the bile and squeezing his hands into fists, muscles straining in his throat as if he could cling to consciousness by clenching his teeth hard enough. 

He could not lose consciousness. If he did, he and Spock could be damaged beyond repair. 

They still might be. 

He could hear people talking, but it was like he was underwater and they were above the surface, screaming to try and make him understand but unable to pass the correct sounds through the barrier around him. He swallowed again, tried once more to open his eyes. Everything was wavering and too bright, but black no longer tunneled his vision. “Where’s Spock?” he tried to make himself ask, but his tongue felt clumsy and didn’t cooperate with him, throat sore and tight. 

He tipped forwards onto his hands and knees instead, unsure when he had ended up with his back against the wall, and took several panting breaths as his consciousness pulsed and swirled around him like some terrible living beast, threatening to consume him. The pain in his head at least gave him something to focus on, and he used it judiciously, concentrating on that and the fact that his patient needed him to push himself forwards, seeking out the small body which must be nearby. He could not have gone far. 

And after this was over, he was going to beat the shit out of someone and give the whole ship a lecture on not interrupting psi-positive beings in a meld. _For fuck’s sake, they could’ve killed us!_

He found that small body, shaking and screaming and cradled in someone’s lap, pressed against a yellow-clothed stomach. It was unbearable to hear that voice in pain a second time today, and Leonard wondered if such a trauma so young could be overcome, even for a Vulcan. “Spock, Spock, Spock,” he seemed to be chanting, the word tumbling off his lips, pushed out by a clumsy tongue, as he fumbled for small fingers and pressed them against his temple with wild inaccuracy. “Spock, gotta go again. Do it again. Spock, kid, c’mon, help me fix this.” Neither of them knew how to fix it, not really, not a psi-null country doctor and a toddler who’d just lost everything he’d ever known, but they had to try, or doom themselves to a vegetative state for the rest of their sufferable existences. “ _Spock_ , for fuck’s sake, _meld with me._ ” 

“ _N-nahp, hi-hif-bi tu throks,_ ” Spock sobbed, and they were back within that desert, the sun even hotter than before but the storm around them silenced, and Spock was looking up at him with a terrible expression of devastation, lost within this wide world and the reality of what he had committed. “D-doctor,” he whispered in that Not-Really-Standard, and his chest heaved against Leonard’s hip where they were pressed together, yarn tangled inextricably around their bodies, their fingers tangled together, and Leonard hated the way the bond pulsed quietly around them, swallowing thickly. 

“Well, kid, we’ve really done it this time.” We, because it was his fault as well, because his decisions had led them here -- allowing Jim to speak and tell the whole truth, not realizing sooner what Spock would crave in the absence of a stable mind and bonds, not stopping him before they could get to this point, and his older self apparently not educating the rest of the crew on any Vulcan voodoo etiquette. Besides, he was the adult, Spock was just a child. He didn’t really know what he was doing. 

“I do not... I cannot undo it...” Their minds, forced apart when Spock was dragged away from him, now inexplicably bound together to protect themselves in the backlash, cementing a twisted bond that hadn’t been given the time to take a healthy form. 

“Yeah,” Leonard sighed. “Are we in any danger?” 

“I do not believe so?” But Spock was hesitant, he didn’t really know, he was working on instinct and anguish. There was a headache pounding behind Leonard’s temples in time with the yarn that bound them together, and the wetness that came in waves in Spock’s too-expressive eyes. They both took several deep breaths, trying to steady themselves. 

“Best make the most of it,” Leonard finally said, trying to keep himself calm, trying to keep the boy pressed up against him calm, bound to his mind so they could feed off each other’s terrible anxiety, and suddenly his fear of the stars was swamped by Spock’s own fear of the unknown, of braving this strange place where they were supposed to be people they were not without anyone they had ever known, without anyone they had ever loved. Were the people Leonard loved dead, too? His mother, Jocelyn, Joanna? That damnable Doctor Yarik who had been his resident during his hospital internship? 

He needed to pull away from that, needed to get them both onto something that was known, that was solid, that was safe, and he ended up drifting to Jim. Jim, who was still here, even through all the death, who loved with his whole heart and pretended he didn’t so much that he would rather bury himself in a bottle and throw himself into risk than admit that he cared and open himself up to that vulnerability. But he did care. He cared for Leonard, and Leonard could tell he cared for Spock, and he was a genius, and Leonard trusted him enough to know that he would tear apart heaven and hell itself to get them back to who they were supposed to be, would rend the galaxy with risk if it would bring back the ones Spock needed, the ones he loved. If it would bring back his mother. 

“I do not know if I want to be who I am supposed to be,” Spock whispered into his stomach, voice trembling, and a pang of agreement from Leonard echoed through their entwined minds. He was who he was right now, and trying to learn who he was supposed to be, giving up who he was now for who he was later, was a terrifying prospect. He had only lost a couple years. 

Spock had lost over twenty, at least. 

“We’ll figure it out. Jim’ll figure it out. If we don’t wanna go, he won’t make us.” Because that was the essence of it. Solving this sudden problem, dead in the middle of space with two officers not in their right minds, would mean putting them back in the right minds -- through the killing of who they were right now. Spock, three years and seven months old Spock, would disappear to be the person he was supposed to be now, the Commander of a Starfleet ship, not through change and growth but through absence. And if Spock didn’t want to die, and fuck, who did? Jim wouldn’t make him. 

The meld ended naturally this time, that much Jim could tell, as Spock’s exhausted, trembling fingers slipped from Bones’ forehead. That did not prevent both men's -- well, man and boy’s -- eyes from rolling back in their heads as they slumped into unconsciousness. 

Everything felt stuck in his throat, overwhelming and horrifying. Something was happening, something was happening because of him, and if he just knew what he might’ve been able to stop all this. That message was for him, a warning for him, and whoever it was knew that the most effective way to cripple him and the ship was to take out Bones and Spock first. He could only thank the stars that they were still alive. 

He should’ve reacted more quickly when Spock indicated there was a problem, shouldn’t have listened to Bones when he said to lay it all out, should’ve reacted faster when he realized Sulu was about to break the meld, thinking Spock was hurting Bones. 

It had been a horrifying moment, to hear those words from Spock’s mouth and know what the kid was thinking, too young and yet echoed by his own childhood. And then seeing him reach out to Bones, and Bones’ quick panic, and then their mutual slump against the wall as the meld took hold, and his officers all jumping to their feet. It was more horrifying when they were pulled a part, and there was a moment where the entire room was still with anticipation, quiet; and then Spock screaming and writhing like some alien creature had invaded him, and Bones arching like he was a live wire, taut with pain and determination. 

All Jim could do now was breathe as he cradled Spock to his stomach, Bones’ head resting in his lap next to Spock’s hip, and shudder with the realization that none of this was going to be as easy as it sounded, because how could he in good conscious force these two men, his best friends, to endure any more fear and pain only for Starfleet’s sake? He could only imagine how they felt, and it was enough, the sympathetic pang and the tightening of his chest already too much. He pushed it away, focused himself. 

“Nurse?” he managed to croak, and was gratified when none of his officers, his family, mentioned his hoarse voice as Christine’s tricorder whirred over his two unconscious friends. She shook her head. He felt cold. 

“I just don’t know, Captain,” she said after a moment. “Their brain waves are off the charts, but pain ratings have settled. If I had to guess, they’re just... exhausted. Sleeping.” His breath left him in a whoosh of air, and he closed his eyes momentarily, trying to gather his thoughts. 

“Right,” he said after a moment. “New rules. I know Spock looks like a kid, but he’s still a Vulcan kid. Don’t touch him.” He glanced up to see his officers looking at him, Sulu’s guilt plain on his face. “Do not, under any circumstances, unless he asks for your touch explicitly, touch him. No matter what he’s doing, no matter what’s happening. What just happened to him and Bones? Those are the consequences, and we’re damn lucky they aren’t dead. Spread that through the ship, Captain’s orders.”

He got Uhura’s quiet ‘yes, sir’ in acknowledgement of the order. He took another deep breath. “Scotty, forget about the engines. I need comms, and I need that transporter. I want to look at those logs. And I want to know who the _hell_ did this.”

“Aye, sir.” 

“Chapel, you’re acting CMO.”

“But sir?”

“I realize you’re just a nurse, but there’s no one Bones trusts more than you, and that means there’s no one I trust more. What do we do with them?” Christine looked a bit nervous, but she gathered herself quickly. 

“I’d like to keep them under observation. I don’t know when they’re going to wake up, or how they’re going to be when they do. I don’t want them to wake up alone.”

“Alright. Get a team up here, I may be able to carry Spock now but I certainly can’t lift McCoy.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Uhura, compose an announcement. Just the facts. I’m not locking them in their rooms, which means rumors are going to spread anyway. As of now, they’re both off duty. Scotty, you’re Acting First Officer.” 

It felt, for a moment, like no one could breathe in the silence, before they were moving about their assigned tasks, hearts heavy and minds racing. They needed to figure out how to fix this. Fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please search out my tumblr (ifdragonscouldtalk.tumblr.com) for more ways to support me and to chat with me! Ask to join my Star Trek Writer's Discord!
> 
> Feel free to leave your thoughts and speculations in the comments below, and anything you would like to see happen between Baby Spock and Bones! You guys knocked the last comment goal out of the park, it was so surprising and encouraging to see the flood of speculation and praise! I have the same goal for this chapter, maybe you'll even beat how fast you did it last time (I think the goal was met within a day lol). It definitely makes me work faster and harder for y'all, especially when I have your lovely speculation to think on. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	5. All That Vulcan Voodoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jim, what are we doing out here?” The smile died on his friend’s face, a weary look overtaking it. 
> 
> “Honestly? I don’t know. We were just on a star-mapping mission, and all of a sudden, we’re under attack. And you and Spock you’re not... Well, something happened. I’m trying to figure out what.” You’re not you, went unsaid, but Leonard didn’t need to hear it for it to hurt. He ignored it, trailing his fingers gently on Spock’s cheek to try and wake him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry y'all! The semester started and things just got away from me. Also, someone demanded I update and my contrary, spiteful brain decided Let's Not Do That Instead. I have been updating other works on my profile, please take a look at those and leave some nice feedback for me! My brain has felt quite fried.  
> Either way, I hope you enjoy this lackluster chapter. Next chapter I'm planning to get into the ~Fluff~ so plot shit probably won't be occurring for the next couple chapters, just ~fluff~ with babey Spock. 
> 
> Special thanks to Pepin as always for betaing this chapter and being my ever lovely support.

Consciousness was not easy coming. 

Leonard had been sleeping fitfully, that much he could tell from the snatches of dream and sensation, the exhaustion still heavy behind his closed eyes. But his body wanted him to wake, now, even if his mind didn’t, even if he felt like he could sleep forever. 

His head, pounding, was the first true sensation of wakefulness he registered, followed swiftly by the roiling in his stomach, a burning fire, and if he could remember the last time he had eaten he would probably have thrown up. He could hear the problematic beeping of the biobed he must’ve been laying in, in contradiction to his pounding head and synonymous to his throbbing heart, could smell the sterilized air of Sickbay as he breathed deeply through his nose like it would banish his nausea through force of will alone. 

“Bones?” 

There was Jim, sounding younger than he had any right to sound considering they must’ve been around the same age, currently, lost and worried. The pounding in his head was only increasing, and something was tugging, cold like fire, against the back of his skull, and he couldn’t help but groan as he curled up on his side, clutching his stomach. Fuck but he had expected this, had known since the moment that Cat’s Cradle had snared his fingers that there would be side effects, ones he couldn’t predict and Spock definitely couldn’t control. He just hadn’t expected them to be this bad. 

“Spock,” he ground out, clutching his temple with one hand and his stomach with the other. “Where’s Spock, dammit? Bring him here.” 

“He’s just across the room, Bones, he’s still asleep.” But Jim sounded distressed, fretting, and Leonard knew they both must’ve been displaying symptoms of the fucked bond in their sleep, with the dumbass non-xenobiology-knowing doctors aboard this ship having no idea what was causing it or what to do. Shit but he was going to correct that, soon as he could stand without the world spinning. 

“Bring him here, Jim. Now!” 

There was hesitation, and Leonard was debating cracking his eyes open for a glare when he heard the shuffle of movement, Jim’s presence leaving his side. He was back quickly, feet decidedly not quiet across the floor, and there was the small whimper of a child from his direction. Leonard cracked his eyes open then, reaching his hand out towards the Vulcan child cradled carefully in Jim’s arms. “Put ‘im here, Jim, next to me.” 

Relief, as soon as skin touched skin, and it was going to be a long few days, definitely. He sighed, shutting his eyes again as the ache in his head suddenly faded, pressing Spock close to him on a biobed that was way too small for both of them. “What...?” Jim was quiet, had clearly been watching the bed’s readings as they steadied, and Leonard could imagine his confused eyebrow, the question around his mouth. 

“Bad bond,” was his reply as he finally opened his eyes, looking up at his best friend, the only one he could trust in this insane volley of space. “Bet the kid’s never melded with anyone before. Fuck, I hate Vulcan voodoo.” 

“What, so now you’re stuck to each other?” 

“How the hell should I know? Might just be a proximity thing. It might fade with time. It might get worse over time. I don’t know, and Spock definitely doesn’t, and the other doctors on this ship seem to be amazingly incompetent.” Jim raised an amused eyebrow, standing by unhelpfully as he struggled to sit up with Spock in his lap. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m setting up to fix that right now. I’ll get ‘em in shape, don’t you worry!” 

“Worry about you? No. I’m a bit worried for them, though.” Jim was smirking, but a sigh escaped Leonard like it had been forced from his lips, looking down at the child in his lap. His chest hurt, and not for treatable reasons. 

“Jim, what are we doing out here?” The smile died on his friend’s face, a weary look overtaking it. 

“Honestly? I don’t know. We were just on a star-mapping mission, and all of a sudden, we’re under attack. And you and Spock you’re not... Well, something happened. I’m trying to figure out what.”  _ You’re not you, _ went unsaid, but Leonard didn’t need to hear it for it to hurt. He ignored it, trailing his fingers gently on Spock’s cheek to try and wake him. 

“You think it has something to do with the hacked transporter.” Jim’s silence was answer enough, and he scowled furiously. “I always knew those things were death traps!” 

“I’m more concerned that whoever orchestrated this had to have an intimate knowledge of both Starfleet and the  _ Enterprise _ herself. It would’ve taken extensive planning and even more extensive skill and time, and for all I know, there could be someone or more than one someone on board this ship who was part of the sabotage.” 

That sure damn sounded like Jim wanted his opinion or reassurance, but Leonard didn’t have much of either to give. “Jim, I know where you’re comin’ from. But... if this goes on for more than a few days, Spock could die. And if Spock dies while we’re bonded like this, I ain’t gonna be unscathed either.” 

“I know. Believe me, Bones,  _ I know. _ But there’s nothing I can do, not while we’re like this, dead in the water. I can’t  _ do anything! _ _”_

And it was killing Jim, being stagnant, being unable to do anything. The kid was a man of action, always moving, almost twitchy with it. He needed to be able to solve problems, or cause them, and there was little more trouble he could cause with the situation as it was. Jim ran a frustrated hand through his hair and Leonard released another sigh, trying to release the tension in his chest with it. 

“I know you do, Jimmy. Hand me that tricorder. I wanna scan this kid myself, I don’t trust these fools.” Jim let out a snort, but it was wry, unamused, grabbing the tricorder as he climbed out of the biobed on shaky legs, frowning distastefully at the patient gown he was wearing. As soon as he let go of Spock his head gave a soft pound, a throbbing vice around his skull, but it was manageable if annoying. He grabbed the tricorder and fiddled with the settings a bit before running it over the still-unconscious child, frowning deeply at the results. “Well that’s interesting.”

“What?” Jim was peering over his shoulder, squinting at the readings ineffectually, as if by staring hard enough he would gain the ability to interpret them. 

“Something’s wrong with his brain.”

“What do you mean ‘something’s wrong with his brain’?” Jim sounded alarmed, and Leonard resisted the urge to snap back something witty, instead pulling up the biobed readings and comparing them, throwing up at digital projection of Spock’s brain from the combined data. 

“Look, there, on his frontal lobe. That part is called Broca’s Area. See that strange little distortion? There’s something buried in his grey matter there, something that ain’t supposed to be there. Broca’s Area controls our speech, to some degree, and the areas of the brain are thankfully pretty much the same in a Vulcan. If he’s got something there that ain’t supposed to be there, no wonder he’s havin’ trouble switching between Standard and Vulcan.” 

“What, like a tumor?”

“Nah. There would be more indications for a tumor on my readings, and there would be more problems than just his speech. Far as I can tell, it looks like a manmade chip of some kind.” Leonard continued to manipulate the hologram, turning it back and forth as he frowned, thinking. “Dunno what it is though. I’ll have to look at his file. Either way, it’s gotta come out. We can put it back when he’s an adult, but it’s doin’ more harm than good right now.” He looked up as Jim snapped his fingers, looking like he had just solved a great puzzle.

“Spock has a beta-test chip, it was implanted in the Academy. Testing for an internal universal translator. He knows so many languages, he would be able to tell when the chip was malfunctioning, so he was ‘a logical choice’. Told me about it once, sometimes it’d glitch out and give him headaches.”

“He should’ve gotten it removed when the headaches started, then,” Leonard grumbled, waving the hologram away as Spock turned over in his sleep, the softest sigh escaping, an indication of his impending return to consciousness. “Well, I ain’t gonna take it out for a few days. He doesn’t need more shit mucking around in that head of his right now, and it’s not causing any damage, just givin’ us some frustration. Once we’ve both recovered a bit more, I’ll talk to him about it and get him into surgery. Shouldn’t take long to remove at all.”

“Whatever you think is best, Bones.” 

“Damn straight. You better be sayin’ that to me for months after this.” Jim laughed, and Leonard was glad he could lighten his mood even a bit, staring down as brown eyes revealed themselves out of a too pale, too young face. “G’morning, sunshine.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you liked and what you'd enjoy to see, especially in the ~fluff~ moving forward! We're currently out of the hurt and into the comfort (don't worry, I'll return to the hurt soon). Please find me on tumblr (yes I DID finally learn how to link things) for more updates on my personal life and to find more ways to support me!  
> Love you all, dears, thank you for reading. (Comment goal for this chapter is 7, let's knock it out!)


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